“He looked at the walls, Awed at the heights His people had achieved And for a moment -- just a moment -- All that lay behind him Passed from view.” - Herbert Mason, The Epic of Gilgamesh When I read this passage from Herbert Mason’s The Epic of Gilgamesh, I think it speaks to how humans find meaning in what we leave behind when we pass on. Gilgamesh, who has spent much of the epic wrestling with his mortality and regrets, pauses to reflect on the walls of Uruk. The city he helped create. These walls symbolize human effort, both flawed and extraordinary, and they remind him, and us, that even though our lives are short and full of mistakes, what we build together can last. The line "awed at the heights his people had achieved" stands out to me because it shows a moment of humility in Gilgamesh. He doesn’t just admire the walls for himself, he acknowledges that they’re the result of collective work. I imagine the walls weren’t perfect, there were probably cracks, repairs, and challenges along the way but that makes them more meaningful. They’re a reflection of what it means to be human: striving for greatness, falling short, but continuing to build. Just like the walls, his life has been a mix of strength and imperfection, but it’s still something worth celebrating. What really stays with me is the line "all that lay behind him passed from view." To me, this is one of those rare moments where a person can step outside of their struggles and see the bigger picture. I’ve felt that way before like when I’m standing in nature. For Gilgamesh, this is a break from the heaviness he’s been carrying. The fear of death, the loss of Enkidu, and the mistakes he made along the way. In this moment, he’s not thinking about what he’s lost or what he can’t control. Instead, he’s seeing something lasting, something bigger than himself, and that gives him peace. I think this idea of fleeting clarity is important. The passage emphasizes that this moment only lasts "just a moment," which feels very true to life. We all have those flashes where everything seems to make sense, but they don’t last. Life pulls us back into our worries, our mistakes, and the work of just getting through the day. It’s a reminder that even though we can’t escape our mortality, we can still contribute something meaningful to the world. Another thing I find fascinating about this passage is how it ties Gilgamesh’s personal journey to the collective achievements of his people. Throughout the epic, Gilgamesh is focused on himself, his fears, his legacy, his need to be remembered. But here, he’s not thinking about his individual story; he’s thinking about what "his people" have built together. This shift feels significant because it suggests that meaning isn’t just about what we achieve alone, but about what we create as part of a community. The walls of Uruk are a physical symbol of that shared effort, something that outlasts the individuals who built them. For me, this passage is also a reminder of how imperfect efforts can still create something timeless. The walls weren’t built without mistakes, and neither was Gilgamesh’s life. He hurt people, made bad decisions, and spent much of his time chasing things he couldn’t hold onto. But standing in front of the walls, none of that seems to matter. What matters is that something real, something lasting, came out of all that effort. Even though we’re flawed and our time is short, we can leave something behind that matters. In the end, this passage feels deeply human to me. It’s about the tension between our small, imperfect lives and the bigger things we try to create. Gilgamesh, looking at the walls, finds a kind of peace. Not because he’s solved the problem of mortality, but because he sees that what we leave behind can endure. It’s a powerful reminder that even though life is fleeting, what we build together can transcend time, giving our lives purpose and meaning.